


cape as red as blood

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Changeling AU, F/M, Fae AU, Fantasy AU, Gen, Little Red Riding Hood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: The forest is dotted with will o' the wisps.





	cape as red as blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asphodelgrimoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphodelgrimoire/gifts).



The woods are dotted with will o’ the wisps. 

Aaron doesn’t attempt to follow them. He knows better than to trust in wisps, and there is only one path to follow in these woods. But still, his eyes follow their bobbing motions, drawn and affixed by some fae magic trying to lure him off the path. 

The woods are layered thick with silence, heavy as a blanket of snow. There are no birds, no deer, no rustle of leaves in the wind. The only noises are the soft sounds of Aaron’s feet on the path and his own breathing. 

Aaron shivers and draws his cloak closer around him. The fabric is dark red, stitched with a rabbit-bone needle with iron filings in the hems; the fae won’t bother him tonight. He holds his lantern higher, swallows hard, and presses on. 

It’s still daylight, just barely, although you can hardly tell. Occasionally there’s a patch of slanted sunlight that’s made its way through the trees, but mostly the woods are dark. 

Abruptly, the path ends, with no tracks around it or any break in the woods. 

Aaron stops. Glances around. He can’t see any other paths. He can’t see very much at all; the woods are thick and densely packed. What little sunlight there still is slants further and starts to turn golden. 

In any other circumstance he would turn around and follow the path back home. In any other circumstance he would not be in the woods at all. 

That is not an option tonight. That will never be an option again. That village made it very clear what they think of changeling boys and their changeling magic. Aaron is not wanted there. 

He clutches the edge of his cloak, pulls it closer. 

Steps forward. 

Nothing rushes to meet him. Nothing springs out of the darkness. There is only the crunch of bracken beneath his boots as he adjusts his weight, and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

His footsteps sound louder to him now, his lantern brighter in the dark. The light is a dim orange now, lending a golden glow to what little it touches; the will o’ the wisps - faintly green-tinted - look sickly pale. The forest is large, too large for him to reach the edge by morning, but the part of Aaron’s mind that deals in fear rather than sense is convinced that everything within it knows exactly where he is. 

The light tilts even further, then slips away entirely. Aaron keeps walking, slow now. He hasn’t eaten since before sunset. He hasn’t slept since last night. Still, he doesn’t want to stop - this forest is filled with fae, and travellers have been known to enter and not return. There are iron filings sewn into the hems of his cloak, but Aaron doesn’t trust these woods any more than he trusts the slippery smiles of the village priest, or any more than the village priest ever trusted him. 

Somehow, he is not cold. 

 

The wolf appears seemingly out of nowhere, her dark fur solidifying out of the shadows. Her golden eyes are almost as bright as Aaron’s lantern and far brighter than the wisps. She’s huge; Aaron comes up to about her shoulder. 

She walks alongside Aaron, matching his pace. “What are you doing in the woods at this time of night?” she asks, in a voice that is smoother than any wolf’s has the right to be. “Boys like you should be in their beds.” 

Aaron doesn’t respond. He tries not to think of the knife blade-sharpness of the wolf’s teeth. 

She moves a little closer. Her footsteps are eerily silent, even as Aaron’s crunch the leaves beneath them. “You kept going, even when the path stopped,” she observes. “You don’t know where you’re going, do you?”

He can’t bring himself to agree with her, but he doesn’t disagree either. Aaron knows, vaguely, where he’s going, but _out of these woods_ is not quite the same thing as having a destination in mind. 

His silence seems like enough of an answer for the wolf, though, because she says, “If you follow me, I know a place for you to sleep tonight.” 

The will o’ the wisps bob like moons in miniature. After walking half the night, sleep sounds like heaven. 

Aaron does not follow her. Young mostly-human boys who want to live do not follow wolves, however kind they may seem. 

The wolf melts back into the night. Aaron cannot say that he’s sad to see her go. 

 

The fae don’t acknowledge him until the rare patches of true moonlight fade into deepest night, leaving nothing but Aaron’s lantern and the wisps. 

It starts with glowing eyes between the trees, red and violet and gold, pupils slitted like cats’. Aaron doesn’t react outwardly, but the skin at the back of his neck prickles. He holds his lantern so tight that his fingers hurt. 

More and more of them appear, surrounding Aaron. There’s a knife in his pocket with a blade of steel, but there are dozens upon dozens of fae and even for a human Aaron is small. He won’t fight unless they force him to. He prays they won’t. He walks faster. 

It takes a while for the whispers to start: _the little changeling boy thinks he’s one of us - ought to slice him up with that steel knife of his - pretty little red cloak, I wonder if it’ll get redder or darker when it’s soaked through with -_

Aaron breaks into a sprint, weaving through the trees in a pattern he hopes will make him harder to catch, the forest rushing by him so fast he can’t see where he’s going - 

\- his foot catches on a tree root, he doesn’t catch himself in time - 

\- they’re going to kill him like they kill everybody else who comes through these woods, there’s a _reason_ nobody goes here, there’s a _reason_ the path ended - 

\- there’s a rush of dark fur and a loud snarl - 

\- everything goes black. 

 

When Aaron wakes up, sunlight streams through the trees. The wolf is curled around him, her fur soft and her heartbeat steady. 

Aaron smiles and closes his eyes again.


End file.
